Lay off me I'm starving

I had the occasion to watch a really horrible Jennifer Aniston movie (haha, oxymoron), “Picture Perfect.” This was mid-nineties B-List with Aniston and Kevin Bacon’s nostrils. They were truly the star of the show.

I am ashamed I was neither drunk nor incapacitated when I started getting invested in this fine film. The plot was this: Plucky advertising up and comer career gal (Aniston) wants to have sex or whatnot with Kevin Bacon’s nostrils (Kevin Bacon), but he’ll only submit to her wiles if she’s unavailable. Because he’s supposed to be playing an attractive douchebag that all the ladies want to get with; Kevin Bacon is supposed to be a character actor, but he could not convince me he was bone-worthy in this. Sorry. Especially over pre-smarmy post SNL Jay Mohr, who is pretty cute.

But long uninteresting story short, she hires Mohr to pretend to be her boyfriend, Kevin wants to get with her, vomit vomit vomit. She and Jay Mohr start falling for each other, but she stays late one night for work (wow! she’s plucky staying late- she should be home cooking!) and by not calling her man back she hurts Mohr’s feelings and the deal’s off! Wah wah. He goes back home.

But: So she’s known him like two days (Mohr’s character) and there’s this scene near the end where she’s supposed to be putting on a work presentation “Working Girl”-style and all of a sudden hysterical advertising genius played by my obvious choice, Jennifer Aniston, starts blabbering on stage in front of these stereotypical “mean man” looking businessmen about some guy she suddenly cant have and obviously needs and gosh, isn’t it cute when women start freaking out in a professional situation? Isn’t it quirky, isn’t she a go-getter? Isn’t that man that she met a couple days ago worth her whole career? Why, it’s a romantic comedy! Of course he is! (After all, she could be married soon and this career stuff could really be put aside, natch).

So, she doesn’t get fired because it’s cute to be a liar. Especially if you’re lying in a really cute dress with a little less agressive Rachel hairdo (this movie was in the ’90s).

The last scene has her chasing Mohr’s character to a wedding (where he’s a videographer! So charming!). And, like the selfish unprofessional romantic heroine she is she interrupts the wedding and his work to proclaim that she wants to date him. You know what happened next.

The End.

I feel like I have been sending out negative vibes the last few days. Maybe it’s the unbearable heat (thank you, 6th hottest city in the U.S. -  D.C. I had to extract myself from the metro seat after the hour-long delay today). It could be work, boredom, or myriad other reasons that I am too much of a lady to recount. Not to mention the fact I feel old. 

I am not the biggest drinker, so naturally Saturday night I let my stress get to me to the point where I decided it was wise to crack open that half-empty bottle of Chambord that had been chilling in the freezer and finish it like a champ. I can’t really explain why I did it. And I’m talking about buying Chambord, because that’s a horribly lame thing to buy. The bottle is pink with purple jewels and looks like something that should hold a Mariah Carey fragrance. Obviously, I had to get it! But I really didn’t need to finish it.

In between laughing at the rerun of the Tina Fey SNL with my mouth dribbling pink raspberry vodka and stumbling around looking for a phantom flip-flop, I decided it was time to open a package that I had received. Around that time I was pretty drunk, and I do not condone what I did next, which was to get an X-acto knife for said opening of package. You can figure out what happened next. One puncture wound later, I’m lounging on the couch angry at my invented misfortune and I decide to do the third stupidest thing of the evening and: drunk text. I won’t go into it, but suffice it to say I had to seriously apologize Monday though strangely enough it was constructive in a roundabout way and I ended up feeling better.

The moral? Affirmation? Meaning of all this? When I really think about it, all of it was incredibly lame. Shouldn’t I be out, like, doing stuff for humanity and whatnot instead of making poor decisions in my apartment?

That is why I am going to invent a bitch slap robot that is on call and comes over to my house to deliver a single, soul-awakening bitch slap to my face. My robot will then retreat to the kitchen and bring me an Italian ice because my face hurts from all the slapping.

Seriously.  Even though the prototype in my mind is just a roomba with a really long arm, I really think I’m going somewhere with this. But you know, mostly I think it’s just time for me to go to bed.

Here’s my inaugural post. I haven’t had a blog in a while and I really don’t think the blogosphere was clamoring for my thoughts on Lifetime movies, cats, Thomas Kinkade, diet drinks, and medical oddities anyway. Which is fine as far as I am concerned.

However, isn’t everyone special? Aren’t everyone’s thoughts so unique they deserve their own permanent locale online? Yeah, I don’t think so either but every few months I rejoin and tell myself I will keep up with it. I probably won’t, though. I really admire people that can consistently post about their inanities. I have inanities too! 

So, I guess the point is that my blog isn’t special. I’m going to post whatever I feel like, though it won’t include work or really anything too personal. Seriously, not how I roll. Save that for online journals and tortured Facebook notes. I might expound on something weird or random or complain about my neighbors. I might even discuss a book I’m reading just because I feel like it. But mostly I JUST DO WHAT I WANT.

In the meantime, I’m seriously dieting in advance of my yearly physical but I can’t stand discussing stuff like that. I know, I know, it’s inspirational and whatnot, and I respect that more than I’ll let on. However, I am not inspirational. I’m lazy, physically and intellectually, and I’d rather be lounging and reading the latest Vanity Fair. (There’s this juicy article about Prince Andrew in this month’s issue, but I digress). Or, better, I’d rather be watching Lifetime.

Speaking of which: Last night I was watching some movie on Lifetime. A 2011 one, no less! Because, seriously, I just can’t stomach watching old Kristy Swanson/Tracy Gold/Judith Light movies.  So, I’m watching this movie about a teen IN LOVE WITH A BAD BOY (Lifetime all-time favorite theme #3, after domestic abuse and revenge, but before evil babies and ghosts) and I see an ad for:

MAGIC BEYOND WORDS: THE J.K. ROWLING STORY.

Dear God, I’m excited. I didn’t do a spit-take but I would have if you were looking. Honest.

I guess I had better go now. Welcome. And remember: lay off me.